


oh, to see (without my eyes)

by sunfiree



Category: Captain Marvel (2019), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 22:03:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18157610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunfiree/pseuds/sunfiree
Summary: And Maria closes the distance between them, soft lips pressed to her own, and Carol moves her hands up to cup Maria’s face, tilting it so she can press even deeper, so new but somehow achingly familiar, and she feels like she’s being broken apart and mended again, this time in the shape of Maria’s lips and the warmth of her skin.Carol and Maria share a quiet moment before Carol has to leave.





	oh, to see (without my eyes)

“I always knew something was missing.”

As soon as Carol speaks, she almost regrets giving voice to the thought that’s plagued her since she first awoke alone on Hala, with alien blood coursing through her veins, burning her up from within. The thought that’s been chasing after her every dream, her waking thoughts, even the nightmares she tried so hard to bury down, as deep as she could. Maria turns to look at her from where she’s nearly half-asleep on the other side of the couch, sitting up and rubbing her eyes.

They’d settled down onto the worn couch in Maria’s living room after Fury and the Skrulls had gone to bed, Monica laying down between them with her head in Carol’s lap, legs in Maria’s, lulled asleep by the soft noise from the radio and the dull whir of the AC unit. Carol’s hand is stroking through Monica’s hair, and it’s like her body had remembered this – this familiarity, this warmth, this _family_ of hers that her mind had lost.

“I would sit down to eat and all I could hear was a half-remembered laugh, and when I turned around nobody would be there,” she continues, and the words are almost too loud, disturbing the still night air. “I thought I was going crazy because you – you were _everywhere_. I could never forget the way you looked when you smiled, or – or the smell of your shampoo, or how it felt to hold you in my arms – never _fully_. It was always there, somewhere, in the back of my mind. I always knew you were missing, Maria. You and Monica.”

“Carol,” Maria breathes out, eyes wide.

“You don’t have to say anything,” says Carol. “I know it’s been six years –”

“Six years too long,” interrupts Maria, words slow and heavy with something Carol can only describe as _grief_ , “to love one woman so hard. To mourn her. To miss her so damn much it felt like it’d never go away.”

And Maria’s a tired looking woman, but she’s beautiful – beautiful in a way that Carol half-remembers, in flashes of memories of warm hands and wide smiles and dark, crinkled eyes she could lose herself in. So when she looks up, takes Carol’s hands in her own and smiles in that sort of full, unrestrained way she’s only ever shown around her and Monica, her chest feels so tight she can barely breathe, the air frozen in her lungs.

And she tries to drink in the sight of Maria’s face in the dull light of the TV’s glare; memorising the curl of her eyelashes, the darkness of her skin, the angle of her cheekbones, as if she could etch her face into her mind, so deep it could never be forgotten again.

“Maria,” she says. “Maria.” And it’s all she can say, all her mouth can sound out, the familiar motion it’s made millions of times in her life before. “Maria.”

“It’s okay, Carol,” Maria says, pulling her into a hug, and Monica makes a small sound of protest between them as they jostle her. Carol can’t help but to tuck her face into Maria’s neck, tears stinging her eyes for the first time in who knows how long. “It’s okay,” she repeats, running her hand through Carol’s hair with the confident, steady motion of someone who’s familiar with this, who’s done this countless times before.

When the tears finally stop flowing, she pulls back, sees their reflection on Maria’s cheeks, and she carefully removes Maria’s hand from her hair and clutches it in her own. Maria’s hand is smaller than hers, but just as strong, callused with the evidence of all her hard work, her skill, the _strength_ that defined her.

“I have to leave,” Carol says, eyes closed, and it _hurts_ , hurts to even contemplate leaving the woman she loves and the child she can’t help but to think of as her own – the family she’s lost and regained, even if she knows it’s the right thing to do.

Maria sighs, a breath of air fanning out across the small space between them. “I know,” she says softly, and Carol thinks she hears the whisper of regret in her voice, of dimly contained resignation.

Carol winces. “It’s not fair for me to – to expect you to wait,” she stumbles out, suddenly unsure.

“Yeah, it isn’t,” says Maria. “So I’m not going to. I’m taking that SHIELD job and carrying on the way I always have. And you’re gonna find those poor aliens upstairs a new home. But _your_ home will always be here for you, Carol Danvers. Even when you’re god knows how many galaxies away, we’ll be here.”

And the words soothe a wound in her, a hurt that’s been building for what feels like forever, and _how could she ever forget this_ , how could she not _remember_ – “I loved you,” Carol says, before she loses her nerve. “I still love you. I can’t remember everything yet and I’m not sure I ever will but I do remember that.”

And Maria closes the distance between them, soft lips pressed to her own, and Carol moves her hands up to cup Maria’s face, tilting it so she can press even deeper, so new but somehow achingly familiar, and she feels like she’s being broken apart and mended again, this time in the shape of Maria’s lips and the warmth of her skin.

They break apart slowly, reluctantly, foreheads still bowed together, and she stretches an arm out to grab the pager that’s lying on the coffee table in front of them. “I got this communications device from Fury,” she says, pressing it into Maria’s hand. “Just press this button –” she pushes it down, and there’s an answering buzz from another pager in her pocket – “if you or Monica need me and I’ll be here. Anytime.”

“You know if I give this to Monica she’ll be buzzing you like crazy,” says Maria, one eyebrow raised.

Carol laughs. “Well, Lieutenant Trouble is her nickname for a reason, right?”

“Right,” says Maria, looking down at her, and she reaches across to brush some of Monica’s hair off her face. “She’ll miss you,” she says, but there’s something new in her voice, a kind of tentative hope – almost a promise. Almost a vow. “But she knows you’ll always come back to us.”

Carol closes her eyes, thinks of standing under the shadow of Hala’s towering silver spires, of being pinned in place like a butterfly in a trap by Yon-Rogg’s cold stare, of the dull, throbbing pain of the Supreme Intelligence invading her mind, and then she thinks back even further, remembers the feel of a plane’s controls under her fingers, the sunlight reflecting off of Lawson’s sunglasses, the touch of Monica’s fingers clutched in her own, remembers soft kisses traded with Maria in the summer heat.

“Always,” she says.

**Author's Note:**

> title from "mystery of love" by sufjan stevens
> 
> CAROL & MARIA ARE MARRIED OKAY
> 
> come yell at me on [tumblr](https://asp-iro.tumblr.com)


End file.
